


The Life & Times

by scottmchungup



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, also me: fucks more messes, but thats just how it b on this bitch of an Earth, ch.1 is basically: steve rogers is big mad, me: tries to unfuck this mess, more to be added l8r we're just on ch.1 chiefs, oh yea and Ultron is a thing but like not exactly movie compliant bc nat's not kidnapped, peter is big sick and tony has big heart energy, plot? we don't have plots here we're a lawless society
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-23 21:07:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17087753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmchungup/pseuds/scottmchungup
Summary: Random Avengers one-shot compilations. Iron Dad / Spider son centric but not exclusivech.1 - Steve finds out Tony has a kid during AoU





	1. Proof Tony Stark has a heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to the place where plots that aren't thought out enough for a fic come to live!  
> A couple of notes is that I am a reckless Tony stan and I ship him with just about anybody, so if there are ships in the chap. I'll put them in the descriptions before the chapter so if you don't wanna read that , u can just skip it (no ships this chap). One of the only constants will probably be that Peter is either Tonys bio son, or like, basically that but again this is anarchy babey. I love all (all) MCU characters so lets see wtf happens

Steve Rogers considered himself a fairly patient man. He was quick to give the benefit of the doubt, and even quicker to rationalize the opposite end of the story. People do bad things for good reasons. Sometimes they even do good things for bad reasons. People do things for a wide variety of reasons, and throughout every possible scenario, Steve Rogers believed himself to be of the kind that would handle it with a certain level of poise.

But even he had his limits.

After Ultron essentially vowed to end the human race, the Avengers had been tasked with finding a thing that could control the internet. Their primary use of tracking. So unless the Avengers were going to go old school and put up ‘ _HAVE YOU SEEN MY ROBOT?_ ’ posters, they were confined to a small, Stark Towers room until the location came in. And with every Avenger shouting their personal grievance, Steve Rogers felt the air thinning as if he were in a very deep, and frankly crowded casket.  

“The fact of it is, this is your fault, Stark! Do you see anybody else’s name on the armor of the Terminator out there?”

“Why is it that when it comes to Vision I’m only a contributor, but with Ultron I’m Dr. Frankenstein? At least have some consistency, Barton, pick a side.” They’d been at each other’s throats for the past few hours while Wanda, Vision, and Tony’s new server FRIDAY, scan for Ultron. They know his end goal, now all they need is a battlefield.

Or maybe solitary confinement.

“Okay, here’s my team: you’re an ass.”

“Yeah, that team’s full bud, get an original patent.”

From there it (d)evolved into Bruce both defending and reprimanding their work, Natasha rebutting, Thor commenting sarcastically, and Clint vowing to make his own robot with the sole command of kicking Tony’s ass.

Which of course, only procured another opportunity for Stark’s comedy special.

“What can’t do it yourself, Legolas?”

Yeah, Steve’s patience had officially been emptied. He’d been rubbing his temples as the foreign sense of a headache creeped into his mind (something he hadn’t felt since the serum) until finally he slammed his hand down to command the room. “Enough!” All the heads swiveled towards Steve in that moment, surprised at his sudden entrance into the fight. For the first time in what felt like hours, the room was so quiet he could hear his own thoughts and Steve had half a mind to ask to keep it this way. But a war was coming, and frankly blame was fairly easy.

“This is your beast, Tony. Surely you created some kind of off switch?” Steve questioned. For as much scolding as he gives the business man, he truly does respect Tony Stark. Usually. But when his god complex takes the driver’s seat it’s hard not to support Clint’s ‘butt kicking robot’ idea.

“I created Ultron as a back-up should we ever fail. Would’ve been a little too much of a self-fulfilling prophecy if we’d made a big red button that says ‘press in case evil’. Besides, the full upload wasn’t completed, he adapted on his own.” Tony answered exasperatedly. He was rubbing the bridge of his nose as if this were obvious, and try as he might to suppress it, Steve’s anger flamed. This literally had Tony’s name in big bold letters, where the hell did he get off on superiority?  

“Stark----“

“ **Sir, there’s an arrival in the entrance**.” FRIDAY interjected from the ceiling. There was a medley of sighs and huffs of annoyance, and even Steve indulged too. Now was definitely not the time for Tony's virtual butler.

“Leave at reception, FRI.”

“ **It’s VIP, sir.”** FRIDAY pressed.

Steve actually saw the moment Tony realized what he was going to do before he did it, and even with the forewarning Steve was still shocked. Tony was going to go. He’d created an all power super villain that had just been unleashed upon the world, and at the beck and call of his company he’d damn them all. Respect was a two way street or it was foolish, and Steve Rogers would not be made the fool for him.  

“I’ll be right back.” Tony sighed, leaving for the door. The shouts of protest and anger created a symphony to usher him out and Steve, in his shocked silence reserved his infuriation for a shake of the head as Tony left the conference room. He was truly unbelievable. The world was burning, and all he cared about was another dollar in his bank account.

That was enough. He’d given Stark the benefit of the doubt too many times now, and been surprised by a very predictable man too many instances.  Steve pushed up and out of his chair so hastily it nearly toppled, and exited the door same as the man before him. There was red in his brain, and fury in his blood and whether this makes or breaks the team he had to get it in the air. Up ahead, he’d seen him turn right, so that was where Captain America stormed off too, just barely catching sight of the back of Tony’s suit as he rounded a corner five doors ahead.

When Steve came upon the same entrance, now only half ajar, he was fully prepared to barrel into the room and knock Tony Stark off his infuriating high horse with a few choice words but was stopped short when he heard his voice address a newcomer.

“What’s up kid? I thought you were all set for May and Ben’s tonight?” Steve quite literally skidded to a stop.

Self-proclaimed international ‘billionaire, playboy, philanthropist’ had stopped in the middle of his 30th floor living room to address a young, curly haired kid who looked to be in the early on the early side of ‘teenage’. He hadn’t asked what business he had here, or how he got into the building, but merely addressed him as if unconcerned he was currently in one of the most protected buildings in the world. What’s more is Tony knelt down and placed both his hands on either sides of the kids face without hesitation, and held it up tenderly. _Huh_. Steve had just used ‘Tony Stark’ and ‘tender’ in the same sentence without sarcasm. Maybe he was having an allergic reaction.

“I know, I’m sorry! I forgot my science book, I’m sorry, Happy said you were busy, I figured I could just grab it and be out of the way, but I know you’re busy, and----“

“Pete, Peter, take a breath between monologues-----“ Tony then placed his hands on the teens cheeks. He (Peter, Steve assumed) looked sweaty and a bit red which Steve would assume was not his natural pallor. And Tony, dare he say it, actually looked concerned. About another humans well-being. Tony Stark was concerned about another living, breathing creature and not even ironically. “You’re burning up, are you alright?”

 “No. No… I mean yes----I’m fine, just a headache. I just… feel like everything is really bright, and loud, and… painful. I think I just need to sleep, I’m just tired. The field trip was alright, but now I just feel… weird. Ned says you purposefully got me sick so I’d think Oscorp sucks.”

“Huh, smart kid.” Tony joked fondly and started to push back the kid’s curls softly. His eyebrows had knitted together in concern, and he kept leaving his palm on Peter’s forehead as if constantly checking his temperature.

Maybe Steve wasn’t as perceptive as he’d like to think. Had Tony adopted between the events of New York and Ultron? Was he a part of some elite big brother program? Were the interns at Stark Industries just strangely close? Whatever it was, Steve should leave but this… this was like a bad car crash. It pulled your attention even when that little voice in your head said to turn away both for your own sanity, and their privacy. Tony Stark had a heart. Even if only occasionally, this was still revolutionary.  

“I’m fine, I promise! You know Aunt May will make that chicken soup, and Uncle Ben will watch Star Wars with me all night. I’ll be fine, the feeling will fade.”

“May’s soup might actually make you sicker.” Tony quipped. Peter managed a weak smile, but it didn’t seem to change much of his overall demeanor.

 _Steve should go_. This is a private moment that Tony has obviously kept confidential for who knows how long and he should go. But the Tony Stark kneeling in front of a sick kid was vastly different from the Tony Stark who walked out of the conference room. “-----I wish I could say I don’t have to go, but this is kind of my mess. The Avengers and I have some business to attend to tonight.”

Peter nodded, closing his eyes sleepily like he might fall asleep on spot. “I know. It’s okay.” Tony frowned, like he wanted to protest, but Peter continued. “Go save the world or some shit.”

“Hey, language!”

“Sorry, save the _Earth_ or some shit.”

Tony laughed--- and damn if it wasn’t genuine. “You get that smart mouth from public school.”

FRIDAY interjected then, making trained super solider Steve Rogers jump in his socks. Luckily the sound was drowned out by the intercom. “ **Boss, we’ve located Ultron. The Avengers are asking about your whereabouts.”** Tony sighed, and his hands dropped from Peter’s sides and to his own face where he rubbed tiredly.

“Call me if you need me, alright Pete? I’ll be back soon. Stay safe, feel better.” They hugged, and Steve moved to leave. This was too much. He’d pried too far, and frankly learned too much. In the same breath, he was left now with more questions than ever. Who was Peter? And how, when, and _why_ had this kid garnered such a human response from the only man Steve Rogers was sure had surgically removed a coconscious?  

“Dad?” A small voice called, and Steve stopped dead in his tracks to peer once more through the crack in the door. Tony and Peter had hugged already and began to pull apart to go their separate ways when Peter called him back. Well he called ‘dad’ and Tony Stark had answered. For some strange reason those words were synonymous for Peter.  

“Yeah?”

“This won’t be like New York right? You’ll… you’ll be alright, right?”

Steve felt like he’d been punched in the chest. Not only had this kid---- pardon him, _Tony’s son_ been there for the war of New York, but he feared for the same fate with every mission. For the first time since he’d met him, Steve Rogers felt a surge of pity for Tony Stark. Did he think of Peter when he flew into the wormhole? Did Peter watch as he did?

It took Tony a second to respond. Without having to see the scene, or read minds or the like Steve knew he was contemplating the effects of lying. “When am I not alright?”

Apparently lying won out.

“I love you, Dad.” Steve was walking away with purpose now. This was too much. He couldn’t focus on Stark’s insane double life but rather the other product of his creation---- Ultron. There was a mission at hand, and then afterwards Steve would allot himself the proper time to freak out about a mini-Stark.

“I love you too Peter. Now go, before Happy calls security on you.” The words carried through the corridor, following Steve as he left. This was too much. To process, to understand, to question. Just too much.

Steve arrived in the Avengers room to the same tense stalemate he left. To the patrons of this room, nothing had changed.

“Did you actually kill Tony? Nat, you owe me twenty bucks.” Clint said, polishing through his arrows idly. Steve just sat down, too stunned to respond. When Nat shouldered him for an answer, his mouth simply hung open. What was there to say?

“That’s all my life is worth?” Tony entered then, seemingly unfazed by the Tony Stark who had just felt for his kid’s temperature in the lobby. Gone was the tenderness, and back was the grandiose that Steve had been ready to fight mere minutes earlier.

“With tax.” Natasha replied bitterly. “You got us into this, Tony.”

“Isn’t there something in scripture about throwing the first stone, Romanoff?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Natasha and Tony were almost nose to nose, both poised to strike. For as much humanity as Tony shed for ‘Peter’, he had no self-preservation here. Almost as if he wanted them to hate him, like it was somehow safer that way.

“It’s not really a thinker.”

Natasha opened her mouth to retort, and Steve found that to be a good place to intervene.

“Let’s move on from fault. Your system said you’ve got a location, Stark?”

Tony had a split second of surprise that Steve Rogers didn’t want to play the blame game, but he recovered quickly as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“Yeah, Sokovia.” There was a collective sigh of recognition. Now that he'd seen this hidden part of Tony---- this trade secret that seemed to be reserved for a very select few, Steve was wondering what else there was he missed. He looked closer now, in case there was a 'world's best dad' charm bracelet he'd missed, or an 'i have a son, his name is peter, and i say things like 'i love you' unironically and with feeling' tattoo perhaps across his forehead. But there was no discernible difference. Nothing that Steve could put his finger on and say _that_ , that right there is proof Tony Stark has a heart.

In that same moment that Steve understood why there was no outer difference, Tony turned away from the room to give Steve his full attention. “Coach, you going to give us the rundown?”

Right. _The fight_. Peter, Tony, and basic logic would have to wait until they’d slayed this monster first. Whatever long con game, or god forbid reality that Tony Stark was playing at would have to be decoded if there was a world to come back to.

 _When_ there was a world to come back to.

“Avengers… suit up.”


	2. Highway to heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this drabble is more canon compliant bc it follows civil war and infinity war, however I have taken the liberty of un-fucking what Thanos done did to us. It hasn't been proofread bc im illiterate so here have Tony Stark being HAPPY (ish) FOR ONCE (@russos)
> 
> No ships this chap unless like,, you want there to be and Peter is not Tonys bio son but then again anything is possible if u just believe

The last thing Tony remembers was FRIDAY’s alarm. It blared as if it were coming from inside Tony’s actual head, and with his last breath of life she had said something like ‘air loss critical’ that had he not blacked out then would have earned her a ‘no duh’ coding fixture in her systems later on. He blacked out, with the feel of Thanos’ giant hand crushing his neck to send him off into oblivion.

Over the next coming days he can only remember vague happenings. Or at least he thinks its days. Whenever his eyes open, it’s never long enough to make any semblance of a difference and with how heavy his eyelids are he doesn’t get very far to begin with. He suspects the patrons of his room, coffin, or whatever it was he was in don’t even notice as they happily go on about their discussions in decidedly non-indoor voices.

The first time he gains true consciousness it’s only for a few minutes. He hazily wakes up to the most atrociously bland white walls he’s ever seen in his life and wonders for a moment if heaven is a poor interior decorator. Then he remembers that if the reaper’s scythe did catch him, it wouldn’t be God’s feet he was kneeling at. So either hell is a four-walled hospital room with the scratchiest sheets money can buy, or Tony Stark, for whatever annoying reason, had lived.

And he feels like shit. Every breath is painful and twists up his chest like it’s trying to individually break each of his ribs, and his throat and nose feel constructed as to what he will later come to realize is a breathing tube. Shakily, he raises his hand to his face, and tries to pull at the cord like he’s unplugging a USB until another hand slaps his away.

“Are you serious? You’ve been legally dead like nine times now, and the first thing you want to do when you wake up is go for number 10?”

It takes a lot to sort through the fog in his brain, but when he does he realizes that the face currently scolding him is that of Lieutenant James Rhodes. Older, wrinkled, and apparently exhausted, but then again the only time he looked anything but exasperated was in the BT (Before Tony) time. 

Tony attempts a smile, but at best he thinks his lip twitched. Previously stating that ‘everything hurts’ had been a gross underestimate of the true total damage. Everything felt like Thanos had hand selected the finest assortment of moons, and then pitched each one to his bare body like he was being scouted for the MLB. When he swallowed to speak, he realized the tube was constricting that, and was quite possibly more worried of having the inability to speak than he ever was of death.

“If I had known it was only going to take a breathing tube to shut you up, I would’ve implemented this in college.” He joked, but his face spoke of a gravity unspoken yet. Not wanting to know the story behind that, Tony choose to move his eyes back up to the ceiling where the water damage created the most beautiful rendition of a blob he’d ever seen. Far more interesting then whatever tale of failure Rhodey would tell him now.

If he was alive, then that meant Thanos was as well. That meant he’d failed. Not once, not twice, but consistently---- and for his entire life. He was operating on a no-win season, and regardless of whether he had to ask or not there was a statistically high chance he and Rhodey were the only ones left. Perhaps this was his penance. Perhaps the great Tony Stark would be killed not by any bullet, but by his own ghosts.  

“I know this is my one thousandth bedside speech but can you maybe not die all the time? It’s starting to really give a bad vibe to the team. Everyone was all up in arms and crowding the room when they came back. If you’d have seen it, your ego alone might have suffocated you, but since you wanted to play the long game we’ve divvied into shifts. Nice of Snow White to wake for me, by the way.”

Tony’s eyebrow rose as his only means of communication. Everybody? Everybody as in him, Rhodey, and the rest of the Zombieland cast or everyone as in… _everyone?_

Tony whipped his head back towards Rhodey perhaps a bit too quickly, and something other than the heart rate monitor started beeping loudly. He felt a stabbing sort of pain in his lower abdomen, but the incessant need for his best friend to clarify dulled the pain until a nurse ran into the room.

“Just had to make a scene.” Rhodey commented, and Tony started to notice little black spots dancing in his vision. When the nurse used a large syringe to inject something into one of the many tubes in his body, the black started combining until eventually all he could see was darkness, and he fell willingly into it.

The last thing he heard was James Rhodes asking, “Is he going to be okay?”

 

 

 

The second time he woke up things were a little bit clearer. Steve Rogers sat with an opened notebook and a pencil that barely scratched the surface, absolutely unaware that Tony was rising from the grave. He noticed the same room as before, but now there was no longer a long winding piece of plastic between his lungs but rather just a small nuisance under his nose that wrapped around his face. He moved, ever so slightly to test his range of motion, and even that small flinch had apparently sent the Captain’s instincts into World War 3.

“Tony!” He said, pushing up hurriedly from his seat. He looked a little bit better than Rhodey--- but not by much. Like if there were a tally board of hours slept in the last decade America’s righteous man probably had a few points lead but Tony would chalk that up to his deep sea dive all those years ago.

“How do you feel? Does anything hurt? I can call the Nurse, or Helen if we might have missed anything, or you need something.”

The thing about dying---- or I guess almost dying, is that it puts things in perspective. In no way was he planning on singing Kumbaya around a warm fire with Cap & co. but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel a little good to wake up a friend he thought he’d lost.

 _What are you doing here?_ Is what he meant to ask, but when he opened his mouth to speak he found it unbearably dry, and his throat seemed to match that. He made a sound, and tried to clear his throat but got about as far as he might have if he were breathing directly into an exhaust pipe.

“Don’t strain yourself too much. Sorry, I’ll stop asking questions that needed answers, maybe… blink in response?”

Tony gave Steve a look that had previously only been reserved for Dum-E. He wasn’t a hit and run victim on some soap opera, he was Tony Stark and worse things than a dry throat have tried to stop him.

“What…” He rasped out, but the rest of the words burned his throat too much to continue.

Steve took the hint that he wanted information at least.

“You attacked solo, and Thanos got the grip on you. Your suit was virtually gone by then and when Thanos choked you, we could only get there in time to keep you alive until reinforcements came.”

 _No!_ Tony felt like screaming. Who gives a damn how he survived whatever tragedy was now amongst them, the others, _that’s_ what he wanted to know. Who was everybody, and who survived this particular fight? It’s not like there was a lot more of them that could die…

His heart rate seemed to increase at the mere thought, and Steve’s attention was brought to the monitor behind his head.

“Okay, maybe we’ll talk about that later.” He let out an unsure laugh, and did that thing where he put his hands on his hips while he overthought something.

“Maybe you not being able to respond to make me regret it, makes this the best time for us to talk. Or I guess, listen. Look, Tony, I’m sorry. For everything, and for how it all went down. I don’t regret the side I took, but I regret that it was against you. I know that over the course of the year we worked together, and pretended it never happened but I’d like to clear the air now before the next war breaches the surface. I’m sorry, and I know you are too.”

There were many things Tony had thought about saying to Steve Rogers ever since Germany. Some were pardons, and some were punches, but predominantly it was apologies. And yet every time he tried to say them they came out wrong. But of course, Captain America beat him to the righteous punch. They may never be what they were before the fight, but at least now they had the chance to be something better.

“Ditto.” He croaked. Tony conserved all his energy into a one word answer, and that seemed to garner the response he wanted from his companion. Steve laughed slightly, and smiled like he hadn’t in a long while.

“You should rest up. Before your fan club gets here, I mean. He’s been waiting patiently to talk to you. I think he’d sleep outside your door like a watch dog, if Pepper would let him.” Steve was already at the threshold by the time Tony’s mind caught up to his words. He as in _HE_ he, or as in one of the people who survived the snap?

“Wait----“ He said, but in much too hoarse of a voice for Steve’s retreating form to hear him. He. He’d definitely said he. And if Pepper was controlling where this ‘he’ slept that meant there was a probability, no matter how small, that they had won. Was he too naïve to believe in that?

It took him a few more minutes to get his heart rate down and his thoughts coherent enough to rationalize ‘he’ could mean Rhodey. Or Bruce, or Thor, or Clint, or the colonel from KFC for all he knew. ‘He’ didn’t have to mean hope. And after years of losing it, he was starting to think hope was a fool’s game.

Eventually, he had no choice but to drift off to sleep again.

 

 

 

By the third time he woke up, he figured it was one of those incredibly lucid dreams. In the far corner, where a long plush bench resided, a small curly headed teen was coiled up sleeping the time away. He had the same build and look as the kid who died on Titan, but this one had slightly longer hair and was very noticeably alive.

If this were a dream, then Tony’s body would have responded to the command of getting up. He would have shouted, apologized, hugged, saved the boy in front of him now, and yet none of those prayers were answered. The nagging pain he felt every time consciousness gripped him was a very prominent member of this congregation, and slowly, ever so slowly, Tony was beginning to realize he was in fact, awake. That maybe, just maybe, hope had a point.

The person sleeping fidgeted, and turned over. Mindlessly, his eyes wandered up to the bed and then away. Brown hues seeing the landscape in front of him, but not truly processing until a few moments had passed.

“Mr. Stark!” He shouted, doing a double take and falling off his perch in the process. Luckily with the reflexes of a spider, he was able to catch himself before face planting. And with a speed faster than blinking he was at Tony’s bedside like a heartbroken widow.

“You’re okay! Well not okay-okay, because not to be a downer but I think you got like, the maximum amount of broken-ness before just straight up dying, but like okay in the sense that you’re awake now and like… okay?”

There was the babbling. The happy stumble through words that signified the Peter Parker thought process. In the past year he’d only heard that from old recordings, voicemails, or the likes and it was always paired with the finest assortment of guilt Tony Stark had to offer.

This was Peter Parker. The same Peter Parker that disintegrated from his arms on a planet far away from here. They won, or at least un-did their previous loss. Peter Parker wasn’t dead!

“When I got back Quill mistook New York for like, Singapore or something, and then May told me I was grounded until, well, forever, and then they said you needed rest and I kept coming back but you were still sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you so I’m sorry I’m late! Mr. Rhodey and Captain America said you were up but that you couldn’t really speak so… sorry. Again.”

In that whole grand monologue, Tony’s eyes never left that of Peter’s young face. He was alive. Alive and not even angry at Tony for failing to do the one thing he was supposed to---- and what’s more was he was apologizing! Apologizing as if _he_ had ravaged the universe for six magical beans and then decimated half of all life himself.

Before he could register that it was his mouth making the sound, he said “Peter.” In a voice so soft it sounded foreign.

Peter’s mouth snapped shut. Tony’s hand was weak and shaky and still, it reached out. If his hand fell through the air, then this was some kind of advanced torture that his mind had concocted but at least he could stop believing in a lie. If his hand met air, that would mean he truly had died.

But Peter’s own shot out, to hold his steady. And the warmth and strength meant that this was in fact, real life.

“Hey Mr. Stark.” He said again, with a soft smile.

This was real. And Peter Parker… sixteen (seventeen?) year old Peter Parker was back because finally the world had righted itself. He looked exactly as he had the last time Tony had seen him, only now he was in street clothes that looked to be incredibly baggy and wrinkled. His shirt said “Van Halen” in fiery writing, and there were noticeable grease stains all about the design.

“Is that my shirt?” He croaked.

“I----- I, yeah, Pepper gave it to me because… I didn’t have anything to change out of, and everything else was too big… and…”

Peter looked down shocked, and his cheeks blush as he stammered through an excuse. Simultaneously, the door flew open and an influx of visitors swamped into the room. People he hadn’t seen in a year, people who he’d thought he’d never see again. Bruce, Natasha, Thor, Clint, Pepper, Rhodey, Cap, and even Wanda and Sam. The latter of which was carrying ‘it’s a boy!’ balloons that looked like they’d been stolen from an unsuspecting baby shower.

“They were out of ‘feel better’s’ at the store.” He explained. Everybody settled into the room, which was noticeably too small for the entire cast of Smallville, and yet no one seemed to care. They were together. And apparently that was enough.

 

 

From there, the conversation escalated into detailed renditions of what everyone had missed or been up to in the years since Germany or the snap. Clint talked about his family---- very much alive, and planning to move to civilization, and Thor discussed his plans for a new Asgard. Everybody had something to say, and it was met with welcome ears. After a year of wallowing in self-hatred and silence, the noise around him had never been so happily deafening.

Even so, he was still able to hear when Peter Parker leaned over to whisper to him. Sam had started taking wagers on whose death was ‘the saddest’, Natasha and Clint were passing back and forth a bowl of the world’s most disgusting hospital food, and Peter Parker was sitting on Tony’s bed with his legs crossed as if bickering with the Avengers after having died was a typical Thursday night.

He said “Welcome home, Mr. Stark.” And Tony could swear that no three words sounded sweeter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think! If there's characters you want to see more from, or plots, etc. I am a greedy little plot gremlin so I can't promise anything but I love the comments! Thanks :)

**Author's Note:**

> hi! This is literally just a place to put all my random thoughts that aren't big enough for an actual plot so i hope u enjoyed!! If you want to see anything / any characters, or just wanna let me know what you think drop a comment! Thanks for reading :) 
> 
> p.s. for the sake of destroying subtlety: Peter was sick after Oscorp bc of the spider bite. In my mind Peter is like 14/15 here and (big F) Ben will die this night thus creating Spider-Man. I'm a big fan of Peter as Tonys bio son trying to hide it from him for a lil (which I have a fic about! A spider by any other name) and with that being said i'll probably do more lil drabbles in this universe but I'll letcha know  
> p.s.s. 'VIP' is Tony's code for very important Peter


End file.
